Worth Suffering For
by flaneuse89
Summary: "The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for."
1. wreck it all

"**The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for."**

**-Bob Marley**

_..._

_don't fool yourself_

_she was heartache from the moment that you met her _

_my heart is frozen still _

_cause i try to find the will to forget her somehow _

_she's somewhere out there now_

_/_

_oh my tears are falling down as i try to forget _

_her love was a joke from the day that we met _

_all of the words all of the men _

_all of my pain when i think back to when _

_remember her hair as it shone in the sun _

_the smell of the bed when i knew what she'd done _

_tell yourself over and over you won't ever need her again _

...

He hates her. He hates her he hates her he hates her. How could she do that to him? How?

His hands pull at his hair as he tries to quiet the silent sobs wracking his body. He's sitting in a bathroom stall. On a fucking toilet. Crying like a fucking baby.

He hates himself too come to think of it. How could he let himself trust her? After everything that happened with Quinn? All girls are evil. He'd thought Rachel was different, and he'd thought he'd lucked out cuz he'd just so happen to fall head over heels for a girl who'd never do anything to hurt him. But he was stupid and naïve and a big fat moron like usual. She tricked him into giving her his heart and then she stomped all over it. If only he'd never let himself fall so far for her, then he wouldn't be here right now, wanting the floor to disappear underneath him so he could descend into black oblivion. He feels blackened, deadened, empty- that the one constant in his life, the one person that made him feel so fucking good like no one and nothing else ever had, was a lie, a dream that never really existed in the first place. He feels like he'll never be okay again.

His phone rings. It's Rachel, again. He ignores it.

Then comes a text. From Santana.

_Where are you? Glee's about to start, the Hobbit looks like she's about to flip a shit. Are the rumors true? Did you guys finally break up?_

He hates Santana too. No, actually, he should be grateful to her. For showing him what Rachel's true colors really look like. He wishes she'd stop bothering him though, what does this girl have against the world? It's like she goes around every day trying to make everyone around her as unhappy as she is. It's pathetic. No, he doesn't hate her and he's not really thankful for her either, he just feels plain sorry for her.

He takes in a couple of deep, shaky breaths. He really wants to ditch practice just this once. He knows he won't be able to look at Rachel without wanting to hurl. Or worse, start weeping like an idiot again.

He's lucky he got to the bathroom so fast after what happened, he was this close to showing the entire school how big of a sentimental foolish prick he is. His adam's apple is aching from him swallowing it so much (to try to the hold the tears back after Rachel told him what she'd done).

But if there's one thing he can say about Glee club, is that it always makes him feel better. And right now there's nothing more in the world he wants to do right now than feel less shitty. He wipes the stale tears off his jaw and clenches his teeth, he can do this, just make it through the day, smile and sing and pretend that it doesn't feel like the whole world's falling in on him from all corners.

…

_come on skinny love just last the year_

_pour a little salt we were never here_

_my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my_

_staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer_

_/_

_i tell my love to wreck it all_

_cut out all the ropes and let me fall_

_my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my_

_right in the moment this order's tall_

...

She hates herself. She hates herself she hates herself she hates herself. How could she be so thoughtless? So spiteful? So imbecilic?

She puts on a brave face as she removes all of the Finchel paraphernalia from her locker. Doing that number in the auditorium was just awful. For a little bit, she'd been able to let herself go in the music, dance around like she did in her bedroom, but then she'd looked at him, and he'd looked at her, and all she'd wanted to do was run over to him and jump into his arms and whisper into his ear how sorry she was and explain everything to him. But she didn't. She couldn't. So she'd looked at the ground sadly and tried to get back into the song instead.

She's never felt worse in her life. More than anything, she wishes she could go back in time, stop herself from being so irrational. But she can't. This time, she's created a mess she can't fix.

She shuts her locker and fists the objects in her hand. She bites her lip, hoping the sharp pain will prevent her from weeping like a misunderstood heroine of an epic musical, and walks to the trash can. Her hand is poised above it, all she has to do is open her fingers and that's it. The Finchel mementos will fall and fall until they're nothing but garbage, and she'll have nothing left. She draws her hand back quickly, clutching the symbols of her love to her heart. There's no way she's throwing this away. There's no way she's giving up.

What she did was downright horrible. She doesn't deserve to have Finn back. But she won't go down without a fight. She needs to tell him exactly why she did what she did. She loves him. She needs him.

…

_A/N_

_Tuesday's episode left me emotionally drained, and instead of singing about things to make myself feel better, I write about them. And this is the result. Things start off angsty, but (of course) end up wildly romantic. I don't think this will be any longer than 3-5 short chapters, but I always drag things out forever so who knows. And the update for Shadows will be arriving in the next couple days!_

_Oh and this disclaimer applies to this entire fic- I do not own Glee or anything Glee related. Songs are Jeff Buckley's 'Forget Her' and Bon Iver's 'Skinny Love'._


	2. wicked games

_A/N:_

_Slight spoilers for the next episode (but mostly me going off on an obviously incorrect tangent based on the Christmas tree farm photos) ahead._

…

_What a wicked game you play _

_To make me feel this way _

_What a wicked thing to do _

_To let me dream of you _

_What a wicked thing to say _

_You never felt this way _

_What a wicked thing to do _

_To make me dream of you _

_And I don't wanna fall in love _

_This love is only gonna break your heart_

_And I don't want to fall in love _

_This love is only gonna break your heart_

_Nobody loves no one _

…

He closes his eyes, leans his head back against the headrest, and drowns in the sound of Chris Isaak.

It was another brutal day. Another brutal glee practice. It's been a week since he broke up with Rachel. And time is not healing the gaping wounds whatsoever. It's been an ordeal to get out of bed every single morning, it's like he doesn't have a reason to wake up anymore. Which sounds so freaking lame and dramatic, he's not a freaking 12 year old girl.

But Rachel was his everything.

He wishes he'd never met her. That she'd never opened those perfect lips of hers and he'd never heard that perfect voice and he'd never been bewitched by all of her passionate beautiful shining perfection. That he'd never looked into those huge espresso colored eyes and let himself fall into them. Because then he'd never have to feel this way.

He thought he'd never feel worse than after finding out that he wasn't the father of Quinn's baby, but somehow, this is so so much worse.

Because it's Rachel. The girl he honestly thought was his one true love. They were gonna fucking get married, they were gonna love each other until the day they fucking died. But words and secret looks obviously didn't mean anything to her. Because if she had ever loved him to begin with, she'd never have done this.

The song ends, and he opens his eyes, twists the key in the ignition, and gets ready to run some errands. He's just going through the motions. He wonders when he'll feel like a whole human being again.

…

She freaking followed him to the Christmas tree farm. She followed him out of the school parking lot and tail gated him the whole way. She's so freaking crazy. But he loved her crazy. Fuck. He still loves her crazy. That's why he wants to run away right now.

He gets out of his car. She gets out of hers.

"Can I help you?" she asks in that small voice of hers, with those big brown eyes that could melt hearts of stone.

He nods dumbly. He still hates her. But he loves her more.

…

_The world was on fire _

_No one could save me but you. _

_Strange what desire will make foolish people do _

_I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you _

_And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you _

…

They walk through the lot of the Christmas tree farm in silence. She's prepared so many speeches, but they've somehow slipped her mind. She's finally gotten him alone, what if she says the wrong thing and wrecks everything again?

Finn breaks the silence suddenly, stopping in front of a particularly large pine.

He looks at her for the first time since she parked her car next to his. For the first time in the last week as a matter of fact. And when she looks into those soulful burnt caramel colored eyes, sees the freckles she's been too far away from to see lately, and smells that scent that floods her brain with a thousand memories of love, excitement, comfort, and glee- she loses her mind (as always) and stands on her tiptoes and kisses him.

First she feels surprise, then hesitation, and then the vigorous response. Elation is an understatement to describe the joy in her heart right now. His lips are so warm, so right, that she could cry from relief.

His hands grip both sides of her coat tightly, squeezing her waist and pulling her up against him, and he leans down and further bruises her lips with his.

He's never kissed her this way before. It's almost as if he wants to punish her. The edges of his teeth keep chafing at her lips, and his tongue is plunging like mad inside her mouth. He's usually all gentleness and uncertainty, waiting for her to make the first move, not wanting to push her beyond her limit. But not right now, not tonight.

And it feels amazing. More than amazing.

One of his hands moves forcefully to cup the side of her face, to keep her head still, as he continues to attack her lips. Her hands rest limply against the front of his bubble vest, and she's extremely thankful that he's holding her so firmly, because she's almost positive her knees have buckled. It's freezing outside but her body's alit with delicious flames. Their bodies are so pressed together, that it hardly feels as if the thick layers of clothing between them are even there. He's kissing her like there's no tomorrow. As if it's their last kiss.

And then in a flash he lets go of her and pulls away, and she stumbles back and almost falls down on her butt (yup, her knees definitely buckled). She's undeniably lightheaded.

He growls angrily, she's never heard anything quite so feral come out of his mouth.

"You shouldn't have done that," he tells her angrily.

"I- I-" she pulls a Tina Cohen Chang, because she hasn't recovered from the kiss of a lifetime he just gave he.

"Why did you follow me here Rach?" he asks darkly.

She finally gets the courage to look at him, but he's already backing away, as if scared of his own anger.

"You won't answer any of my calls," she answers, her tone desperate, "You locked yourself in your room when I went to your house to visit you, and you ignore me every day at school. I had to do something drastic."

Her voice quivers, partly from the cold, partly from her re-broken heart. Finn avoids her gaze by grabbing a branch of needles from a Christmas tree to shred furiously.

"I thought we said everything there was to be said last week," he replies coldly.

"Just hear me out?" she begs, "Please."

He picks the last couple of green needles off the branch and flicks them off.

"Fine," he says, running his hands through his hair.

"Thank you," she says, taking a deep breath, "I don't really know where to start. Or how to apologize for something so gruesome. But I guess the only way to explain it is…" she pauses, recalling something significant, "Remember the lyrics to the song we sang last week? After sectionals? Well there was this one part," she takes another long breath and recites, "_And I never wanted anything from you, Except everything you had and what was left after that too_," she looks at him pleadingly, hoping against hope she'll get through to him, "I wanted everything from you Finn, I wanted you to be mine and mine only, but Santana took something of yours that you can never get back. And when I realized I'd never get to have that part of you, I was so upset, I wanted to make sure you'd never get to have that part of me too. But I was so blind Finn! Because you're the only one who I'll ever give that gift too, honest. It will never feel right with anyone but you."

He looks at her like he's seeing her for the first time.

"I just realized something," his brow's furrowed and his voice is strained, "You're forgetting the rest of the lyrics," he stops a little, trying to recall them, "_Happiness hit her like a bullet in the head. Struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that_," he recites sadly.

She looks at him, confused, and he continues.

"I think you're afraid of letting yourself be happy. You're so used to being alone, that you don't believe that anyone can really love you. But guess what? I loved you. But you had to ruin what we had because you were so scared I'd ruin it first. But I woulda never ruined it Rach, because I thought we _were_ apart of something special, but I was wrong. And I _should_ have known better than to think that I could live happily ever after with a girl who refuses to be happy."

Clusters of tears are coursing down her cheeks.

"Please don't do this," she pleads, as he starts to leave, "Don't walk away from me again!" she yells. He doesn't look back.

...


	3. backwards walk

_I'm working on my backwards walk_

_walking with no shoes or socks_

_and the time rewinds to the end of may_

_I wish we'd never met then met today_

_..._

It takes all the willpower he has not to stop and turn around. It's the image of Puck and Rachel together that keeps him walking.

He had to leave. If he'd stayed with her any longer, and she'd continued to look at him in that way of hers, he wouldn't have been able to resist her. Just being that close to her again was torturous, having her there, right in front of him, but not being able to reach out to her and touch her.

That had been the best part about being Rachel Berry's boyfriend. That he could touch her and kiss her whenever he wanted to.

Kissing her. He shouldn't have responded to her kiss. He needs to kick his Rachel Berry habit, and giving into her kiss was not the way to go about that.

That kiss. It was unreal. Why does their have to be such damn high voltage between them? It's gonna make this all so much harder.

He gets into his car and drops his head onto the steering wheel. It hits it with a thump, and a searing pain shoots up his brain.

"Fuck," he curses, as he lifts his head. He wearily shoves the key into the ignition and drives away, refusing to check for her in his rearview mirror.

…

_I'm working on my faults and cracks_

_filling in the blanks and gaps_

_and when I write them out they don't make sense_

_I need you to pencil in the rest_

_..._

Her face scrunches up in grief as Finn's silhouette retreats through the labyrinth of Christmas trees. She wants to run after him, to hold onto him until he forgives her.

She folds her arms into her chest as she realizes what a crazy thought that is. Maybe everyone else is right. Maybe she really is crazy.

Because Finn's right. She has no one to blame but herself. She ruined everything by letting her own temperamental emotions direct her actions instead of stopping to listen to her head. It's her stupid heart that gets in the way of everything. It's so unstable, so sensitive, it makes her do all these crazy things.

It's like that song she sang in the auditorium after that whole Sunshine debacle (one of her darkest hours). It's what she does for love.

A single tear falls down her cheek as she remembers how not even Finn believed that she had done what she did in a tempestuous, heat of the moment wish to preserve the Glee club. Even he couldn't see that her love of the spotlight came second to her love for him, her love for Glee.

What they had was really special, the twelve of them, and she'd honestly, when push came to shove, been terribly frightened of that being compromised. Yes more background singers would have been fine, but another lead? It would have completely thrown off the dynamic of the team. Matt's leaving hadn't really changed anything. Kurt's leaving had. That proved it. There were certain core personalities and talents within the club that gave it its special voice. And any additional stars wouldn't have been beneficial.

But she should have known that nothing lasts forever. Sam came and added another popular, generic blonde element to the group (further undermining the whole underdog thing they had going), and then Kurt had left, taking a little bit of New Directions' uniqueness with him.

_Nothing lasts forever._ The phrase echoes in her skull. Not even her and Finn.

But maybe she's not the only one at fault. Maybe they weren't right for each other after all. She always believed in him more than anyone else did, more than anyone else ever could.

No one will ever love him as much as she does. She's given him a thousand second chances, forgiven him for a million mistakes, and he can't find it in his heart to forgive her this once? Maybe she needs someone who'll believe in her when no one else does. Who'll love her for everything that she is no matter what.

She shivers as a chill breeze blows through. She looks around and wonders how long she's been standing there.

She slowly walks out, and into the parking lot. She stands next to her car for a long time, staring at the empty space that Finn's car had previously occupied.

She doesn't know what to do anymore.

…

_A/N:_

_So I just read a rumor about the possibility of (stop reading if you don't want to be spoiled) ... Finn and Quinn. I swear my world got a little bit dimmer. This has always been the ugliest ship to me (even worse than Rachel and Jesse). I might incorporate this new rumor into this fic, if only to use it as a catalyst to transform this into a 'Rachel stops acting desperate and shows the rest of the glee club how much they need her and how badly they've been treating her and taking her for granted' fic, because frankly that's the direction in which I feel the show needs to go. In which case this will, as I somewhat predicted, end up being longer than just a few chapters._

_Oh and the song lyrics are from the Frightened Rabbit song: Backwards Walk (from which I will be lifting passages of for many of the following chapters)._


	4. hear me out

_I'm working on drawing a straight line_

_and I**'ll draw until i get one right**_

_it's bold and dark girl, can't you see_

_I done drawn a line between you and me_

...

He got smashed on level 1 this time. _Level 1_. His head must be seriously messed. And he knows exactly who to blame. A little five foot two minx with perfect glossy hair and eyes so big and deep they make Bambi's look small and beady.

He collapses onto his bed face down and groans into his pillow. At least his new bed can actually fit him. He turns his head to look around the unfamiliar surroundings. He's not sure how he feels about this new house they've moved into. His room's bigger but… he's a stranger in it. He misses his old room (slanted ceilings his head always bumped into and everything).

He thinks about That Day. The one stenciled into his brain, the Monday after sectionals. He'd been supposed to bring Rachel here after school, she hadn't been to the new house yet, and they were gonna break this new bed in while Burt and his mom were still at work…

But no, she'd had to fuck it all up, fuck _him_ up, instead.

A knock at his door jolts him out of his wallowing.

He sits up, and grabs his history book from the floor, so his mom can't yell at him for bumming around.

"Come in," he says drolly.

The door opens and Kurt walks in.

"Oh," he says, throwing the book back on the floor, "What do you want?"

"It's fabulous to see you too," Kurt bites back sarcastically, making himself comfortable on the giant bean bag in the corner of his room.

"Guess who I just had coffee with?" his stepbrother asks.

"Umm.." Finn scans his mind, who's that kid Kurt won't shut up about? Oh yeah, "Blaine?"

"No but that was a logical guess," Kurt answers, "Actually I enjoyed a low fat soy latte with my ex-mortal enemy, who can also be referred to as, your ex-girlfriend."

Finn scowls, "Good for you."

"Don't be immature," Kurt chastises, " She's pretty distraught Finn, don't you think you're being pretty harsh? Why won't you hear her out?"

He opens his mouth, outraged.

"You're kidding right? She cheated on me. With Puck. She doesn't deserve to have me hear her out. Besides, I know if I listen to her she'll just use her stupid Rachel Berry powers over me and that's not fair."

"Aha," Kurt nods, "I see."

Finn looks at him confused, "No, you don't."

"I do," Kurt replies confidently, getting off the beanbag and brushing dust off of his pants, "More clearly than you. You're afraid you'll forgive her. You don't want to see her because you're afraid you'll take her back, because you're still in love with her."

He glares at Kurt.

"Shut up."

Kurt rolls his eyes and walks out, shutting the door with a bang, leaving Finn in silence.

He grabs his backpack and takes out his phone. No missed calls. No new texts. Rachel hasn't tried to contact him a single time today. And then he realizes she hasn't reached out to him since he drove off the Christmas tree lot yesterday afternoon. Will she finally leave him alone?

He frowns as he realizes how this makes him feel even more shitty. He remembers when they first met, how she freaked him the fuck out by practically stalking him. And how much things changed in just a few months, how he ended up practically stalking her when she got with Jesse.

It seemed like one of them was always messing up then saying sorry. Even when things were good, and they'd finally gotten together, this pattern had persisted. He remembers when he'd been on the verge of giving up football for her, before she'd apologized and sung that pretty song to him.

He'd loved her so much he woulda given up football for her, and how did she repay him? By doing the cruelest thing he could have ever imagined.

Maybe all he ever was to her was the hot male lead to her stunning young ingénue. The suitable piece of arm candy that made sense. Nothing more.

He heaves a sigh as his mom calls him down for dinner. It's for the best. Rachel crossed a line, and now there's a line between them. He should be with someone who loves him as much as he loved Rachel, someone who would never hurt him this bad.

…

_I join the queue on your answer phone_

_And all I am is holding breath_

_Just pick up I know you're there_

_Can't you hear, I'm not myself_

_Oh go ahead enlighten me_

_You could say anything_

_Small talk will be just fine_

_Your voice is everything_

_We owe it to love _

_And it all depends on you_

Her fingers glide across the keypad of her phone. She knows she shouldn't. She doesn't want to be desperate and needy. And he made it pretty clear to her yesterday that he doesn't want to have anything to do with her.

But she's been thinking about what she did, analyzing her actions and comparing them with her therapist's diagnosis of her _unique_ personality, and she thinks she finally understands why she did what she did.

And she has to get it off her chest. If Finn would only listen to her… even if he still doesn't want to take her back. At least she'll know that he knows, and realize she's better off with someone who actually accepts her for everything that she is.

She dials those seven numbers she's had memorized by heart since the day he joined Glee club a year and a half ago.

Five long rings before the brief answering machine.

_It's Finn, leave a message._

Something, maybe it's love, clogs her throat when she hears his voice. She misses it so much. She misses listening to it all the time. How can a voice encapsulate memories and emotions?

She leaves a voicemail.

"I know you're still mad at me, and truth be told, you have every right to be. But think about all the mistakes you've made and all of the times I've forgiven you for them. I know mine was worse by far, but please just hear me out, you owe me at least that. We both know that we were apart of something special, you can't give up on something special that easily."

She presses the end button on her phone.


	5. erasing you

Finn looks at the two most recent texts on his phone.

**Rachel: Please listen to my message and call me back. My dads are at a holiday party tonight, I just want to talk.**

**Puck: dude just scored a bottle of jack. meet you at the park by my house?**

It takes him all of three seconds to choose which person to text back.

…

_Hold onto my hands, I feel I'm sinking, sinking without you. _

_And to my mind, everything's stinking, stinking without you. _

_And in the night, I could be helpless, _

_I could be lonely, sleeping without you. _

_And in the day, everything's complex, _

_There's nothing simple, when I'm not around you. _

_But I'll miss you when you're gone, that is what I do. _

The accented wails of The Cranberries' lead singer wash over Rachel as she lies on her bed and soaks in her own self-pity, hitting the back of her head against her pillow.

No response from Finn. She didn't really expect one. So here she is. Alone. Forever alone.

And then the tears start falling.

"Flipping heck!" she shouts into her empty bedroom, her voice cracking, "What is wrong with me? He's just a boy!"

She rolls over on her side, and her gaze falls on the picture frame on her bedside table. The photo is of her and Finn, at the County Fair during summer. She's holding the giant Eeyore he won for her at the hoops booth. He'd remembered how she'd told him that Eeyore had always been her favorite character from the Winnie the Pooh series, because she related to his misunderstood loneliness, and his inability to connect with his peers.

"But he's not just a boy," she weeps, taking the picture frame in her hands and letting droplets of tears fall onto the glass, "He's _the_ boy."

…

_I'm working on erasing you_

_just don't have the proper tools_

_I get hammered, forget that you exist_

_there's no way I'm forgetting this_

The Berry's flickering porch light seems to reflect his mood. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing here. He's been standing out in the freezing cold for ten fucking minutes, debating whether or not to knock. He's wasted as hell, and he just drove drunk (even though Rachel's neighborhood is just a few blocks from Puck's, he'd still thought with a perverse pleasure how it'd serve her right if he crashed into a tree or something on _her _account).

While they'd been downing shots of whiskey at the park, Puck had asked him why he wasn't mad at him, but was still refusing to talk to Rachel. He'd told Puck he wasn't in love with him. Puck then told him that Rachel would have never gone through with it, that she'd never love anyone as much as she loved him. Then he'd punched Puck in the face, because God only knows how much the bastard deserved it, and drove to Rachel's.

After cursing at himself for being such a wimp, he knocks sharply on the door. He waits, and waits, and waits. Just as he's about to turn around and get the fuck home, the door opens.

Rachel's hair is all piled on top of her head, and she isn't wearing any make-up. He's seen her with no make-up on before, but this is different. Her eyes are bloodshot, her lips are chapped, and she looks really pale. She's drowning in that giant Eeyore night-shirt she's had since she was 11. He hates that he remembers that. He hates that he knows the significance behind it. He hates that there's a giant stuffed Eeyore sitting in the armchair up in her room. He hates that he won it for her. He hates that she's looking up at him with her big sad eyes, that are just like Eeyore's.

_Don't feel sorry for her,_ he tells himself _you've been crying too, and this is all her fault._

"You really suck? You know that?" he tells her angrily, "You really really suck."

…

Rachel's eyes bulge. He came. Even if only to say hurtful things to her. He's turning around to leave now, but she grabs him by the wrist.

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath, you shouldn't drive drunk," she says softly, "Come inside, I'll make you some pasta or something to soak it up."

He rips his wrist out of her delicate grip.

"Don't think I can't see what you're trying to do," he tells her harshly, "A way to a man's heart is through his stomach only if you haven't cheated on him first."

"Stop being so egotistical Finn," she tells him sternly, standing her ground, " I only offered to make you food because I don't want you to be foolish and hurt yourself by getting into a car accident."

"That's rich, coming from you. You've already hurt me enough, a car crash couldn't do much worse," he replies bitterly.

"Fine," she says shortly, "I don't want you hurting some other _innocent_ then."

That makes him stop and think.

"Whatever," he replies, stomping into her house like a petulant 3 year old boy.

…

"You know what the worst part is?" he says suddenly, in between bites of the fucking heavenly fettucine alfredo she's made him (damn her multi-talents).

Rachel looks up at him from her seat on top of the kitchen counter. She's been sipping hot chocolate, hugging her knees to her body. And they haven't said a word to each other since he walked in twenty minutes ago.

"You were such a fucking prude with me," he says angrily, the alcohol swimming through his veins and making his tongue loose, "And I honestly didn't mind 'cuz, I thought you were worth the wait. But I was always thinking in the back of my head, 'maybe she doesn't love me as much as I love her' because all I ever wanted was to be as close to you as possible, and you didn't seem to want that at all. And then I found out you were willing to give it up in a second for Puck just for the sake of revenge? There's something wrong with that. I don't think you love me as much as you say you do."

…

Rachel blinks in shock. Is he serious? She doesn't know how to reply.

If only he knew. How every time he leans in for a kiss, her stomach erupts in butterflies. Or how every time he rests his hand on her knee, a buzzing heat settles in between her thighs. Or how a flash of his crooked smile can make her feel faint. He doesn't even need to touch her to turn her on, and that scared the living daylights out of her.

She'd been terrified of letting things get farther, because the effect he had on her was so strong that she lost all of her self-possession.

And she's so inexperienced.

She'd come so close to going all the way with him. She'd wanted to so unbelievably badly. But what if she messed up? Did something wrong? Made a weird unappealing noise? Or worse, what if she was bad? Sometimes she'd stay up all night fretting about disappointing him in bed, and him breaking up with her as a result. It was safer to wait, she'd told herself.

And that's why she'd always stop them right before that point where she knew she _wouldn't_ be able to stop.

She hates losing control, and that's what he does to her, makes her loses herself into him.

She crosses her arms defensively, not wanting to appear too vulnerable.

"How was I supposed to know that you wouldn't just drop me once we did it?" she asks defensively, "After all, that's what you did with Santana…"

He gives her that look, from across the kitchen, and fettucine noodles hang forgotten on his for. It's that same look he gave her in the hallway after her confession, anguish evident in every crease of his forehead.

"You were never Santana," he tells her, "I _loved_ you."

She lets out a groan of frustration and sets her mug of hot chocolate on the counter, and jumps off. Walking towards the island where he's eating, she crosses her arms and looks at him stoutly.

"What do I have to say to get through to you that what happened with Puck didn't mean anything! It meant less than nothing!"

"Then why the hell did you do it?" he returns.

"Don't you get it?" she shrieks, "I did it because I love you too much. So much that it magnifies my insanity. I've never cared about anyone, or anything so much in my life! And when I thought… when I thought I was losing you I," she takes a gasp of air, trying to hold back the tears, "I was so furious I lost sight of everything else. The whole Quinn thing didn't even occur to me, honest, Puck was just being so nice to me and I just wanted to hurt you as much as you'd hurt me. And you're right, it was mean of me, because I'm selfish and like usual I was only thinking of myself, thinking of how betrayed _I _felt. And I thought maybe I could make myself feel better if I did something to cancel out what you did with Santana."

She takes a deep breath, surprised that she just put so much of herself out there.

"Well congratulations, your love tore us apart."

She takes a sharp intake of breath. How can he be so unfeeling? He's just sitting there, hearing what she says but not listening!

"But you're not being fair!" she says, thoroughly aggravated "You know what the inciting incident for my rendez vous with Puck was? I saw you checking out Santana in the hallway and-"

"What are you talking about?" Finn asks, the anger in his face getting replaced with confusion, "I never check Santana out."

"Don't deny it Finn, I know you think she's prettier than me-"

"Rachel stop making all these stupid accusations!" He pushes the stool out from underneath him to stand up, "If Miss Pillsbury had let me answer that question I would have told you that yeah I think Santana's hot but I think you're beautiful. And beautiful is like, a thousand times better than hot. And if you're talking about the other day when Santana mouthed something weird to me in the hall, I was just smirking cuz she reminded me of a gaping fish. I was laughing _at_ her, because obviously I was still mad at her for spilling the beans about the whole motel room thing last year. I mean, how could you think I found her even remotely attractive when she was so mean to both you and me? She's so ugly on the inside that she's almost ugly on the outside too now. But you know what? I don't even know why I'm explaining myself to you, you don't deserve it!"

He pushes the plate of unfinished pasta away and walks out the door. He doesn't care if he dies from driving drunk and he doesn't care if he takes anyone with him. He just has to get out of here.

…

_A/N:_

_Hell yeah I just created an incredibly contrived explanation for Finn's 'checking out' of Santana (if you re-watch the scene though, the 'look' really can be taken as a mocking smirk). Because MY Finn would never. And in all reality, the writers obviously just wrote that in to give Rachel some sort of justification for hooking up with Puck, but it ended up just being not credible for Finn's character._


End file.
